Orthodoxy and Dissent

Soviet Sociology of Science by Linda L. Lubrano American Association for the Advancement of Slavic Studies Columbus, Ohio 1976 102pp The Phenomenon of Science — A Cybernetic Approach to Human Evolution by V. F. Turchin Columbia University Press New York 1977 $21.90 348pp

On 5 April 1958, the Central Committee of the Soviet Communist Party adopted a resolution that dealt, inter alia, with foreign literature translated and disseminated in the USSR. The situation, according to the authors of the resolution, was nothing short of scandalous. Soviet publishers of foreign belles-lettres seemed to have lost sight of their ' principal task', which is ' the publication of books that promote the Communist upbringing of the working masses'. Instead, they flooded the market with works of ' no ideological and artistic merit, at times with a tendency that is totally unacceptable to Soviet readers'. Guided by a' commercial orientation' rather than by lofty ideological principles, they offered their readers such 'worthless' and 'harmful' books as the works of Conan Doyle and Alexander Dumas' Queen Margot, thrillers extolling violence, novels containing mendacious or misleading portrayals of life in capitalist societies, poetry reeking of modernism, escapist adventures, and plays suffused with formalism and pathological eroticism. It was time to put an end to this deplorable state of affairs, said the Central Committee. Henceforth the publication of foreign literature must be restricted only to works ' that reflect the most important processes of social evolution, the growth of progressive democratic forces, and the people's struggle for peace and democracy'.
Apparently the reprimands and exhortations fell on deaf ears, for the Central Committee returned to the same subject only a few months later, and then again in 1959, 1960, 1963 and 1973. Indeed almost every year one or another authoritative party organ or journal seems to call attention to the unhealthy spread of decadent Western ideas or the disproportionate stress on Western as compared with Russian literary and artistic works. (Thus a Soviet critic: 'For every performance of the most frequently performed Soviet opera, there are twenty performances of La Traviata. With all due respect for great Verdi's genius, a candid question should be posed: are La Traviata and operas with similar libretti what builders of Communism really need? *) I suppose that Professor Friedberg was rather awed by this question, for instead of grappling with it he posed another (perhaps more candid) one: Why do the Soviet authorities not only permit but in effect encourage this situation to go on? As his splendid tour d'horizon of Western literature in the USSR so abundantly illustrates (the examples range from Finnish to Brazilian belles-lettres and the time-span covered extends to 1973), ever since 1956 there has been a remarkable growth in the number of foreign literary works published in the USSR. Why then pursue a policy so patently fraught with ideological dangers, especially as the authorities are surely aware that even their most fervent Western literary admirers are not apt to produce many novels or poems dealing with 'the growth of progressive democratic forces and the people's struggle for peace and democracy'?
The answers are many, but they might perhaps be reduced to a simple proposition: there's a price to be paid for entering the twentieth century. The Byzantine isolationism of the Stalinist period had to be dispensed with by a leadership eager to reap the benefits of technological progress, enhance its productive capacity, modernise its institutions and keep the population reasonably content. As the Soviet Union gradually abandoned Stalinist terror and began to forge more normal relations with the outside world, it was forced to confront and cope with numerous processesinevitable, useful and perilous all at the same time. The ' cultural front' was no exception. The Soviet public was starved of good reading matter, and its more educated segments (including, as Professor Friedberg demonstrates, most of the younger Soviet writers) have shown a distinct preference for non-Soviet writing. The decision to satisfy this hunger was dictated not only by its pervasiveness, but also by the practical need to raise the cultural and intellectual level of the society.
In addition, ' socrealist' works were faring poorly: theatres specialising in Soviet plays were losing their audiences (and revenues), and journals were losing subscribers. It soon became evident that the use of foreign literary products was one way-however squalidly commercial -of filling seats and boosting circulation. Then there was Moscow's rapidly accelerating 'cultural diplomacy'. In Professor Friedberg's apt words, ' Publication in the USSR of Western authors is widely publicised abroad as evidence of Soviet goodwill, and this, not unreasonably, may be expected to make the atmosphere more conducive to successful negotiation in non-cultural contacts, for instance foreign trade." The publication of foreign literature, then, has become a major industry in the USSR. Yet how to guard against the risks it engenders? In a way, this wasn't much of a problem. With the exception of works from the 'people's democracies' (whose importation is also severely restricted), no books published abroad are available to Soviet citizens. Publication and distribution are a government monopoly. The instrument for censorship and control was thus on hand, the problem simply one of methods. Long adept at such matters, the Soviet authorities have chosen not one, but several. They include crude textual changes, such as the deletion of ' passages of no scholarly or practical interest', the elimination of words, phrases and sentences, and at times even the rewriting of sections found objectionable by the censors. Professor Friedberg is an absolute master of literary detection, and his chapter "The Red Pencil' offers a mind-boggling array of apposite examples. Thus Truman Capote's In Cold Blood, an account of a savage murder of a Kansas farmer and his family, was published in an abridged version under the title An Ordinary Murder (in itself a suggestion that such outrages are a commonplace occurrence in the United States), with all passages reflecting the comfortable living standards of the farmer thoroughly excised. At other times the guiding principle is dour Victorian morality. The following passage from Graham Greene's The Comedians is typical:

Original
There was a great yellow moon and a girl was making love in the pool. She had her breasts pressed against the side and I could not see the man behind her.

Cleaned-up (Soviet) version:
There was a great yellow moon over the trees, and a girl was embracing some man. I could not see him.
It remains to be added that ' minor' textual changes are never, and abridgements only sometimes, acknowledged by Soviet publishers.
In 1973, the Soviet Union joined the Universal Copyright Convention, which necessitated the abandonment of textual changes in favour of somewhat subtler methods controlling the output of foreign literature. Only the relatively inoffensive works of an author are to be published, while the books of authors who have fallen into official disfavour are withdrawn from circulation. Andre Gide and the American novelist Howard Fast had at one time enjoyed enormous popularity in the Soviet Union: between 1948 and 1957 over two and a half million copies of the latter's works appeared in Russian and other languages of the USSR. Once the two writers broke with their former faith, Fast was discovered to have been a congenital traitor, a ' sexton of revisionism' and a Zionist to boot; Gide was excoriated for his 'nacissism, amoralism, antirealism* (his homosexuality could not be mentioned in the Soviet press, but the French comrades made sure it was added to the indictment); and their books promptly disappeared from the shelves of libraries and bookstores.
Other writers simply don't get published at all. Again, the criteria are not always blatantly political: to be sure, such arch-enemies as Arthur Koestler or Stephen Spender are excommunicated for reasons that have nothing to do with aesthetics, however loosely defined. In the case of Virginia Woolf, James Joyce, or Franz Kafka, however, it is their ' decadence', ' intuitivism ', ' pessimism', ' modernism' or ' irrationality' that are found repugnant by the guardians of public taste and morality. Since the canons of-' socialist realism' tend to be capricious as well as subject to political expediency, some authors may suddenly find themselves in good odour, although even then the chances are that they will be published in deliberately small editions. The case of Franz Kafka is illustrative. When a volume of his selected works was finally published (after bis temporary ' rehabilitation' in Czechoslovakia) in 1965, the demand was so great and the supply so slender that within a short time it was selling on the black market for 35 roubles.
Yet as more and more authors earn their passage from the circle of the damned, the task of minimising their impact on the Soviet reading public falls chiefly on the editors, publishers, and literary critics. Professor Friedberg's book is very largely concerned with what might be called the prophylactic role of Soviet literary policy, and I find myself unable to do justice to the wealth

Protest and Punishment
The Story of the Social and Political Protesters Transported to Australia 1788-1868

George Rude
Social and political protesters formed only two to three per cent of the total convict population transported to Australia from Britain, Ireland, and Canada, and this is the first attempt to distinguish them from the common-law criminals with whom they were transported. The author begins with a brief account of protest in the three countries, and shows how it was repressed. He then analyses the different types of people involved, examines the lives the protesters led in the colonies, and asks finally what sort of men they were. £8.50

Black South Africans Dee Shirley Deane
In this profile of 57 leading black South Africans the author adopts a dual approach in order to provide an insight into the personality and lives of the black leaders. Character studies of individuals are included, in addition to purely statistical information. Illustrated £9.50

Special Guest
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Writer and Public in France
From the Middle Ages to the Present Day John Lough The theme of this book is the position of the writer in French society. It provides full and accurate information on the social status and incomes of writers, and their dealings with patrons, publishers, and theatres; copyright laws and their application; censorship; periodicals and newspapers; and many other aspects of a fascinating subject. £15

INDEX ON CENSORSHIP 6/1978
of material and delightfully astute observations that he brings to this subject. According to the Soviet Literary Encyclopedia, for instance, ' notwithstanding the fact that in 1926 Graham Greene, in his quest for positive ideals, converted to Catholicism, his novels expose the inhuman essence of religion'. Francois Mauriac's religious beliefs are also rather suspect, but his novels ' unmask the pathology of human relations under capitalism'. Even though Kingsley Amis' Lucky Jim is marred by the author's ' naive' belief that happy endings are possible in capitalist societies, it nevertheless gives ample evidence of the 'vulgarity, greed, and aimlessness of bourgeois existence '. Alberto Moravia is obsessed with sex; still, his La Ciociara expresses the author's 'condemnation of war as a crime against mankind'. Ergo, Moravia is publishable. (One wonders how he will fare after his brisk condemnation of official Soviet literature and literary policy at the Venice Biennale last year.) One maxim applied by the Soviet authorities is the singularly American 'What have you done for me lately? ', and it is especially applicable to pro-Communist writers, fellow-travellers, or outright Party members. True, loyalty to the 'Motherland of the Revolution' does not automatically assure one a place in the Soviet literary firmament: Sean O'Casey may well have 'remained a staunch Communist until the end of his life', but his odd preference for symbols and allusions made him a rare visitor on the stages of Moscow's theatres. It's another thing if you do your bit for the latest party line. Thus the 1961 novel by the French Communist Pierre Courtade fully expressed the (then) Soviet official position on Stalin: a good Communist, even though guilty of ' errors and distortions'. But even enemies can do something for the Cause: in a sixty-page introduction to the Kafka volume mentioned above, the editor praised the hitherto banned writer for his 'acute perception of the tragedy of life in bourgeois society'.
Are Soviet readers really taken in by such primitive literary criteria, by the relentless efforts to fit every artistic phenomenon to the Procrustean bed of socialist realism? What have been the results of a policy of massive (and ever expanding) dissemination of Western writing on the one hand, and the equally massive attempts to curtail and mould their impact on the other? In Friedberg's view, the efforts may well do more harm than good. The suggestive parallels between problems of social injustice in the West and those in the USSR are not lost on Soviet readers, as is the inability to discuss or portray them forthrightly in standard Soviet literature. Ideologically innocuous works often convey images of Western society radically at variance with the official version. Genres prescribed by the aesthetic of socialist realism have a contagious effect on younger writers. The values implicit in much of Western literature -including the writings of leftwing authors-such as intense individualism, or a dim view of conventional wisdom and institutions -are not exactly those of the Soviet Establishment. Indeed, the spirit of defiance, criticism, and tenacious nonconformism so praised by Soviet critics in foreign writers and so relentlessly suppressed at home is likely to encourage dissident writers in their opposition to official values and institutions, and in the development of a genuine 'alternative literature'. This may well be the ultimate irony of a policy that attempts to harness a stubborn reality in the service of an aberrant dogma. • During the last decade, since the samizdat publication of Academician Andrei D. Sakharov's Thoughts on Progress, Peaceful Coexistence, and Intellectual Freedom, the growing body of dissent within the Soviet Union has involved a high proportion of scientists. This may at first appear paradoxical -prima facie one would expect it to be the sociologists, historians, and economists who would first find themselves driven by their studies to dissent. The reasons for so large an involvement on the part of the natural scientists are complex and a full discussion of them is beyond the scope of this review; one may note, however, that would-be entrants into the social sciences and humanities are more closely screened for Party orthodoxy and commitment at the start of their careers than candidates for the natural sciences, while the latter, trained by their profession to observe and evaluate data, are par-

BOOKS 73
ticularly prone to draw conclusions from observed discrepancies in the theory and practice of their social milieu-not least in the field of personal and academic liberty. For a proper understanding of dissent among Soviet scientists, however, it is important to comprehend the intellectual background against which that dissent has grown up, and, in particular, how orthodox Soviet sociology views the role and purpose of science and scientists. Linda Lubrano's survey gives a useful and fairly comprehensive review of official Soviet thought on such topics as 4 the social content of scientifictechnical progress', the planning and administration of scientific research, scientific creativity, the transformation of science into a direct productive force, the social consequences of scientific research, and the relationship between science and morality. The author, it should be stressed, aims simply at outlining and reviewing 'the sociological perspective on science as it has been developed in the Soviet Union'. Generally speaking, she is concerned with the establishment, not the dissident outlook. Nevertheless, her monograph although somewhat tough reading (largely, one must stress, due to the heavy style of the Soviet material cited) provides an invaluable background to the emergence of notable scientists such as Sakharov, Turchin and Orlov as major human-rights campaigners.
Much of the material from the Soviet establishment seems entirely sound and unexceptionable : ' K. I. Skriabin, for example, says that the specialist should be characterised by a selfless love for science, a confidence in the correctness of one's chosen path, an endurance and patience, honesty and objectivity. Other scientists add the qualities of courage, fortitude, principledness . . . It is Semenov's contention that a scientist's behaviour should be guided by the following characteristics: a sense of commitment to science and service to the people, a feeling of happiness for the scientific achievements of others, honesty and integrity in claiming authorship of scientific ideas, and a willingness to develop the talents and initiatives of one's students in a selfless manner.' All somewhat pompous and moralistic, but surely sound! Indeed, apart from the official commitment of Soviet science to the principles of Communism and the ' materialist world-view', there might seem, at first glance, to be little in the official Soviet corpus of opinion on the sociology of science to which any scientist or sociologist of science, whatever his personal political outlook, could object.
The fault, however, is one of omission. What is lacking, as the author points out, is 'specific mention of the principles used most frequently in American and British literature: universalism (whereby scientific laws transcend national boundaries); communalism, whereby substantive findings are to be communicated to, and shared with, scientists everywhere); and organized skepticism (whereby hypotheses are rejected or accepted on the basis of logic and empirical tests'. Apart from one article, which is mainly a reworking of Western criticisms of the views of Robert Merton, the official Soviet material reviewed here is silent on these matters. Accordingly, on these subjects, and on the related topic of intellectual freedom, Linda Lubrano is forced to step outside her strict field of study and turn to dissident writers -Sakharov and Zhores Medvedev.
The effect is remarkable. The author has obviously attempted to let her sources speak largely for themselves -her aim is objectivity, not polemics. Yet, after the long turgid deliberations of the establishment writers, the few brief extracts from the dissidents come like a sudden fresh breeze that reveals just how stifling the prevailing atmosphere really is. Without any literary artistry or artifice, and, indeed, almost certainly unconsciously, she has recreated something of the intellectual climate in which the Soviet movement of dissidence arose-and the refreshing shock that the early samizdat writings must have given.
Dissent, once established, can of course bring into disrepute all a scientist's work and writings, however unexceptionable their contents from a scientific point of view. (The deletion of the name of Benjamin Levich from Western journals distributed in the Soviet Union-see Index 2/1974is a classic case). The Phenomenon of Science had already been accepted for publication by a leading Soviet publishing house, when its author, Valentin Turchin, was dismissed from the Institute of Applied Mechanics of the Academy of Sciences of the USSR for his defence of human rights, and in particular for his support of Academician Sakharov during the 1973 press campaign against him. Publication of the book was halted as a means of intellectual reprisal-a measure which failed notably to take effect, as Turchin went on to become Chairman of the Moscow Group of Amnesty International and a founder member of the equally unauthorised Helsinki Monitoring Group. His book finally appeared from Columbia University Press, almost simultaneously with his own forced emigration in autumn 1977.
A detailed discussion of The Phenomenon of 74 INDEX ON CENSORSHIP 6/1978 Science would be out of place here. One may note, however, that it is written in an astringent yet eminently readable style, that it is an excellently reasoned attempt to extend evolutionary theory to the development of the human intellect-and that no special scientific or mathematical training is demanded of the reader. According to conversations between Turchin and the present reviewer, the book is, to a certain degree, inspired by Teilhard du Chardin's Phenomenon of Man. The latter work Turchin had read in the Soviet Union, not in samizdat, as one might imagine, but in its official analogue-a 'closed' edition officially available only to persons of sufficient intellectual maturity and having a valid reason for reading it. (The parallel with the old-time Catholic Index is instructive.) In the same conversations, Turchin also revealed that the book, as originally accepted, ended with Chapter 13 -' Science and Metascience'. The material which now makes up the last chapter of the Columbia edition was never even submitted to the Soviet publishers, being automatically eliminated by the author's ' self-censorship'. Only when it became clear that the book would have to be published abroad was the last chapter added, and the arguments of certain other chapters sharpened. This is nowhere stated in the book itself, and the last paragraph of Loren R. Graham's foreword implicitly suggests that the whole book was originally accepted for Soviet publication. This is unfortunate, as the final chapter, particularly the sections on 'science and morality', ' the supreme good', ' spiritual values', ' the human being in the universe', ' ethics and evolution ',' the will to immortality', and ' integration and freedom' raise many ethical and philosophical questions which (albeit left open) are incompatible with the materialist world-view that, as Linda Lubrano's material makes clear, is enjoined upon all Soviet scientists. As it stands, the foreword to The Phenomenon of Science suggests that such speculations would be permissible in an officially published work by a Soviet scientist in good standing-a suggestion that is, alas, at present far from the truth. One would strongly urge the Columbia University Press, in all future editions of the book, to explain more clearly the provenance of this last chapter. •

The governor's guest Ahmed Rajab Press freedom in crisis: A Study of the Amakiri
Case by Dr G. Olu Onagoruwa (Lagos) no publisher's name given, 164pp The scene of the tragi-comedy is the Rivers State of Nigeria. It is the governor's 31st birthday; and the Tide and the Nigerian Star (both owned by the State government) celebrate the occasion with eulogising supplements. The Eastern edition of the Nigerian Observer (owned by the Mid-Western State government), however, does otherwise. It publishes a front-page report from its chief correspondent in Benin, in the Rivers State, on .a press conference by the Nigerian Union of Teachers ventilating grievances against the state government.
Basically the teachers' grievance was that the annual increments to their salaries were virtually frozen while civil servants continued to enjoy theirs, that teachers were sacked arbitrarily and that they were not paid regular monthly salaries. The teachers' union issued an ultimatum and threatened that if their demands were not met by the government, the teachers would strike, would refuse to take part in the national day celebrations in all parts of the Rivers State, and would even prevent school children from participating.
Officials at Government House were furious that the ' embarrassing story' was published on the governor's birthday. They ordered Ralph Michael Iwowari, an Assistant Superintendent of Police and aide-de-camp to the governor, to track down the offending correspondent, Minere Amakiri.
With the help of some soldiers Iwowari tracked Amakiri to his house, disturbed his lunch, bundled him into a Land Rover, and took him to Government House, where he was told the governor, Commander Alfred Diete-Spiff, wanted to see him. According to Amakiri, Iwowari asked him, 'Weren't you the one who published the story about the teachers? Don't you know today is His Excellency's birthday?' Then punishment was meted out to the journalist: his head was shaved with an ' old rusty razor blade' in the rain, he was stripped naked, and given twentyfour strokes of the cane, leaving him ' howling in excruciating pain \ with his whole body ' a mess of blood and bruises'. Amakiri was detained in Government House from 4 p.m. on 30 July 1973 until 7 p.m. on the 31st. During his time in detention he was denied food and refreshment. This slim book, by Dr Onagoruwa, legal adviser of the Daily Times of Nigeria, gives a detailed disturbing account of the arrest of Minere Amakiri and his subsequent successful court action against R. M. Iwowari. It also looks at the Nigerian press within the framework of Nigerian law, both under General Yakubu Gowon and the Murtala Muhammed/Obasanjo regimes.
On the whole, the relationship between the press and the military regimes in Nigeria has not been a happy one. Successive governments have, in different ways, tried to limit the freedom of the press. Over a dozen national dailies are owned either by the federal government or by the state governments and not more than three national dailies are privately owned. The editors of all government papers are appointed by the state and most journalists working on these papers are appointed through the Public Service Commission. Although there is no direct control by the government, the editors -being government appointees-exercise self-censorship. Failure to do so may result in dismissal or worse, as in the Amakiri case.
Three actions taken by the Obasanjo regime warrant special mention: the dismissals of the Editor of the Nigerian Herald and the general manager of the Sketch Publishing Corporation, and the two-year ban recently imposed on the radical magazine New-Breed.
Peter Ajayi, Editor of the Nigerian Herald, was on a trip to Moscow in his official capacity when the government back home unceremoniously dismissed him. No official reason was given. The Nigerian National Union of Journalists is still calling for an impartial inquiry into his dismissal.
When Felix Adenieki was made general manaer of the Sketch Publishing Corporation, he was given a two-year contract as publisher of the Daily Sketch and the Sunday Sketch. After one year he was dismissed, again without any reason being given. He has issued a writ against the government for unfair dismissal, and his case is still in the courts.
But perhaps the severest blow to the press in Nigeria is the two-year ban recently imposed on the radical fortnightly magazine New-Breed, which has been critical of the military government. No reason was given for the ban, signed by the head of state, General Olusegun Obasanjo himself, and announced in a federal government official gazette. The ban is the heaviest punishment ever to have been imposed on any Nigerian publication since the military took over in 1966. The decree under which New-Breed was banned, 'Newspapers Prohibition of Circulation Decree 1967', was introduced at the beginning of the Nigerian Civil War and was intended to control the circulation of' subversive' foreign newspapers. Recently New-Breed had published an editorial, 'The Drift Begins', which said that General Obasanjo's regime was drifting back to practices of corruption and abuse of power that were rampant during the eight-year rule of General Yakubu Gowon. It also published an expose on the National Security Organisation after one member of the NSO had appeared in court to give evidence in an abuse of power case. New-Breed mentioned the officer's name and pointed out that the organisation was supposed to protect and not to harass the people. Earlier this year New-Breed's head office in Lagos was raided by the army and the police, who seized 70,000 copies of an issue that featured an interview with General Ojukwu, former leader of the Biafran secessionists during the civil war, now in exile in Ivory Coast. Under present law, Ojukwu will be executed for treason if he ever returns to Nigeria.
In situations where regimes do not tolerate the press, it is not only the press and its freedom that suffer. In the case of Minere Amakiri one wonders if his fate would have received such (undoubtedly deserved) attention, had he not been a press man. It does credit to Nigeria that at least justice was done in redressing the wrongs in this particular case. However, the court action would not have taken place had there not been a tradition of fearlessness and what Dr Onagoruwa calls ' defiant dignity' on the part of the Nigerian press. It was the swift action by the Executive Council of the Newspaper Proprietors' Association (Nigeria), the Nigerian Guild of Editors and the Nigerian Union of Journalists to publicise the case and institute legal proceedings against Iwowari, that made the press win the sympathy and support of the general public. •

Publications received
Britain and Latin America: An Annual Review of British-Latin American Relations Latin America Bureau P.O. Box 134, London NW1 4JY 135pp £155 First in a planned annual series, comprises essays which analyse and question the nature of British aid, trade, investment and foreign policy toward Latin America, also a study of the national secur-